


A Change of Scenery

by StarredDemation



Category: Fargo (1996)
Genre: AU, Showalter isnt dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarredDemation/pseuds/StarredDemation
Summary: Showalter ends up paying Grimsrud for half of the Ciera resulting in a very different turn of events (and a non-dead Carl).I'll summarize this better the more of the story I write due to spoilers.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	A Change of Scenery

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this a day after I watched Fargo and I don't know why. I just had a really good story in mind and had to start writing this. Let's bring Fargo back, people! Whoo!

The snow covered door to the rustic cabin was thrown open letting in a cool breeze which pulled Gaear’s attention away from the small tv. In the doorway was Showalter breathing raggedly, hunched over on himself and clutching a tissue to his jaw. Bruises were littered all over the left side of his face. He gave a smirk and raised his eyebrows at the larger man who gave a silent sigh in return, only noticeable by the coldness in the room. 

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He laughed through clenched teeth. Gaear decided at that time that he didn’t care and returned his view to the tv.

Out of the corner of his eye Carl noticed their captive, a bloody pool around her limp form on the floor.

“The fuck happened to her?” He wheezed out, a hint of annoyance laced in his voice.

“Uhh, she started shrieking.” Gaear replied in the most careless tone he could muster.

With a sigh the weasley man headed inside the room; a cocky expression on his face. “Well...I got the money,” He continued to lurch forward “All of it.” He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a couple of stacks of the items in question. “All 80 grand.” His voice hitching while he talked.

Showalter placed his partner’s cut on the tv tray in front of him. Gaear’s eyes finally moved from his show to the money on the table.

“Thats 40 for you, 40 for me.” The shorter man shifted away. “That’s it then.” Shoving his hand into his pocket he pulled out a set of keys and tossed it next to the larger man’s pile of cash.

“You can have my truck. I’m taking the Ciera.” He gestured towards the vehicle outside that he’d been driving for the past couple of days.

Gaear’s view was still glued to the screen as Carl’s idea was halted by his words, “We split that.” 

Showalter scrunched up his face and leaned in towards Grimsrud. “How the fuck do you split a fuckin’ car, ya dummy!” He snapped out, “With a fuckin’ chainsaw?”

“One of us pays the other for half.” He replied, ignoring Carl’s tone of voice.

Rage clouded over Showalter’s face. “Hold on. No fuckin’ way!” He peeled the blood soaked tissue away from his injured jaw, “You fuckin’ notice this?!”

Gaear finally looked away from the tv and slowly turned towards his partner.

“I got fuckin’ shot in the face!” Carl yelled to the best of his abilities in his condition. “I did fuckin’ everything while you sat on your ass and killed whoever you fuckin’ wanted!” He stared at Grimsrud with pure rage in his eyes. 

“You know what?!” Thrusting his hand into his pocket he pulled out a stack and slammed it on the table, “There you fuckin’ go! $10,000! Anything to get me the fuck away from you!”

Grimsrud let a small smile graze his lips as Showalter stormed out of the cabin. He picked up the stack and grazed his thumb over it as the shorter man stumbled through the snow towards his car.

“36 fuckin’ hours! Fuckin’ mute piece of shit.” 

Tromping through the shin-high snow he finally reached the Ciera and threw himself into the car. He sat there for a moment taking shaky breaths. Carl angrily slammed his left hand into the steering wheel, his right one still clutching his bloody tissue. After a couple more slams and car honks he pulled the keys out of his pocket and slid them into the ignition.

Reversing the car he backed up to the side, switched gears, and started heading up the snow covered driveway to the cabin. The Ciera made it to the very end of the drive until Showalter slammed on the brakes, stopping just before he collided with a passing car on the main road. His forehead flew into the steering wheel from the force of momentum, causing a surge of pain to travel into his skull and to his jaw. He gave out a small pained yell as he slowly raised his head up.

Police car. His mind froze up. He almost rammed a police car. And the car is stopped right in front of him. Holy fuck the officer is staring at him...and now they’re rushing to get out of the car! In a panicked frenzy he threw himself into the driver’s door and yanked the handle. Showalter tumbled out of the vehicle and landed in the snow. Scrambling to his feet he looked back at the officer. She was rounding the front of her car towards him, pulling her gun from her holster. 

A gun! He forgot he had a gun! Mentally cursing himself he pulled back the left side of his coat to grab at his pistol. It wasn’t there. He just had it where the fuck did it go! It must’ve gotten jostled and fell out when he fell out of the car! Carl did the first thing that came to mind as the officer approached. He took off running. Like their hostage he stumbled through the snow trying to get away.

“Police!” She yelled as he began to flee. “Freeze and put yer hands up!”

He didn’t stop. He just kept running further and further away.

With a single shot from her revolver Showalter crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg and screaming in pain. “Fuck!” He rolled around in the snow, cradling his right ankle as it slowly started to turn the snow red.

The officer approached him and grabbed one of his wrists from his leg wound and pushed it into the small of his back. Kneeling down she grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her belt and snapped it onto one wrist. While grabbing the other one she pushed him further into the snow, rubbing his jaw into the frozen surface. Carl released an animalistic scream as his wound was met with the burn of the freezing cold, “Fuck! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ, lady!”

While clicking his other hand into the cuffs she leaned forward and noticed the red snow near his face. 

“Oh, jeez. Sorry dere.” She kindly apologized as she lifted him up from the snow and started to lead him over to the police car. With her hands on his shoulders he limped his way painfully through the snow. 

“Fuckin’ shot twice within the span of a day. Fuckin’ beautiful!” Showalter fumed as he was pushed into the back seat of the police car. The officer frowned as a reply. 

Closing the door she made her way to the boot of her car and pulled something out. Returning to the back seat she opened the door and tossed a towel on the empty spot beside Carl. 

“Here. It’s to put on your face.” She gave a small smile and went to close the door.

“The fuck am I supposed to do with this? My hands are cuffed.” He gave her a ‘what are you, stupid?’ kinda look and her smile fell from her face as she tilted her head to the side. 

“Lie down on the bench with your face on it.” She responded as she slammed the back car door.

“Oh.” He slowly lowered himself to the bench as he gently placed his face on the soft beige towel.

The officer rounded the car and opened up the driver’s side.

“He-Hey! There’s another guy in the cabin!” Showalter called from his position.

Even though it was muffled the officer heard it, “Okay. You sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

She closed her door and started heading towards the cabin. Pulling out her gun once again she approached the door of the structure which was still thrown open. She slowly made her way inside, looking across the new open area in front of her.

“Police! Come out with yer hands up!” she announced, waving her gun all over the filthy main room. 

There was no one else in sight besides the dead corpse of Mrs. Lundegaard which she man a resentful frown at. She continued to scan the rest of the cluttered, messy cabin. First the small bathroom, then the two bedrooms; yet her search still came up fruitless. Exiting the cabin she checked around the perimeter just in case but still no one was seen. The only evidence of any activity were the many footprints of snowshoes from the trail that ran by the cabins and into the thick woods. She returned to the car and sat in the driver's seat.

“Sorry but yer big buddy isn’t here.” she tilted her head back and looked at him through her peripheral vision. 

“Son of a bitch!” He swore at best as he could with his injured jaw and towel in his face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find ‘em. Backup is coming soon.”

She started the car up and headed down the gravel path that looped around the Moose Lake and back to the main road.

“So, yer dat weird lookin’ fella that everyone’s been looking for.” She decided to start up a conversation since the drive was going to take awhile. 

“I guess.” He winced out.

“Did you kill that woman in dere?” She jerked her head back the way she came, referring to the cabin.

“No! I wasn’t even there when that shit happened! I just found out 10 minutes ago myself.”

“Was it yer big friend?” 

“Hey that piece of shit ain’t my friend. He can die in a hole for all I care.” Carl grumbled out as a bump in the road jostled his jaw. She decided to change the subject to his injury instead.

“What...ah happened to yer jaw?” She took her right hand off of the steering wheel and gestured, her gloved hand hitting the metal divider.

“I got shot. What’s it to ya?”

She chose to ignore that question, “Who shot ya?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?”

“I am the one drivin’ ya to the hospital.”

Showalter gave a huff in response. He was honestly just tired and wanted to go to bed. Ever since the encounter with Shep at the hotel he’d only felt more and more drained. That experience with the hostage’s old man didn’t exactly help either. 

“Three others are dead in Brainerd. A young couple and a trooper.” She gave a sigh remembering the scene that was laid out before her. She felt very hungry afterwards. 

“That wasn’t me.” Carl responded giving very little effort to the conversation at this point. His eyelids were starting to feel very heavy. 

“No, you were the one sittin' in the cop car waitin’ for him to come back from killin’ the couple.”

He gave a tired hum as a reply which slightly concerned the officer since he was so chatty at the beginning.

“You doin’ alright back dere?” She asked in concern.

All that was heard was a quiet groan. Pulling to a stop just passed Brainerd’s Paul Bunyan statue, the officer turned and looked over the shoulder of her seat. Showalter was passed out with his face mashed into the towel.

Worry clouded the officer’s features. Was he going to be okay? She didn’t understand why people like him do the things they do; the repercussions were evident enough on his face. Even though he was a bad guy who did bad things she was still concerned. All life should matter so why shouldn’t his.

Just before she was about to place her vehicle into drive she spotted backup on the horizon. An ambulance and the pair of cruisers that she requested were on their way down the main road towards her. Relief washed over her body as she opened her door and waited out their arrival. 

The two police cars pulled to a stop with the ambulance directly adjacent to her. A male officer stepped out of the first car and approached, taking carefully planned steps across the road towards her. It was a slippery afternoon and he’d rather not fall face first into the ground during such an important time.

“Aye, Margie. What happened? Did ya get ‘em? I don’t see anyone back dere.” He glanced to the backseat of her police car. 

She gave a small smile. “No, Lou. One got away. Looked all over but couldn’t find a trace of ‘em.” She jerked her head to the direction of the back seat, “But I got the weird lookin’ one in the back.”

Lou peered in through the window and spotted said figure laying down on the bench. He furrowed his brow in confusion, glancing back at Margie.

“He’s a-got a big wound across his jaw.” She brushed the right side of her face with her glove. “And I shot him in the ankle when he tried to flee.” Her eyes flitted to the ground in a brief wave of embarrassment.

“Way to go, Margie!” Lou clasped her shoulder with a large smile plastered on his face. “Is he uh...is he okay?” He pointed his thumb to her car.

The female officer tightened her face, “Oh no, he isn’t. He passed out a couple of minutes ago. Could you please get the paramedics?”

“Sure thing.” He gave a nod and proceeded to holler at the two people exiting the ambulance who rushed to throw open the back doors and get the stretcher.

Margie moved away from her vehicle as the equipment was rolled over and the back doors were thrown open to retrieve her charge.

“Could you uncuff him for now?” One of the paramedics asked her as they hauled Showalter onto the gurney. She gave a small frown in reply which was picked up by the medical expert, “Don’t worry. We’re strappin’ down his arms.”

With that she unlocked the cuffs and he was secured to the stretcher, a large medical bandage being held to his jaw by one of the two paramedics. The officer watched as they wheeled him over to the back of the large vehicle and lifted him inside. 

“Margie.”

She turned her head to face Lou as he approached her once more.

“You can go back with ‘em. Gary, Stella, and I have this handled. One of ‘em will drive yer car back when we’re done with the cabin.”

She gave a tight-lipped smile and a brisk nod, “Alrighty. Be careful out dere.” Her boots were already headed to the back of the truck before she finished her sentence. 

“Don’t worry. If a tough cookie like yerself can handle it alone I’m sure we’ll have no problem.” Lou started back to his own cruiser as he reassured his chief. He was sure they’d have no problem at all.

-

Gaear leaned back in his crummy lawn chair fanning his face with a bundle of cash. The cool air from the open door hit his grinning lips. His smile only doubled when he heard the sound of rapid car honks coming from outside. Showalter was such a whiny bitch when it came to jobs and it was a heaven sent to be rid of him. He was always the one doing all of the hard work which was only made worse when his weasel of a partner fucked up or refused to shoot someone due to ‘ethics’ or ‘keeping a low profile’. Showalter’s frustration at him requesting more money added to his joy when he finally received the hefty bonus to his half of the payoff. Plus he got a free truck out of it.

Grimsrud placed his money down and resumed eating his tv dinner as he heard the Ciera put it in reverse and floor it out of the driveway. With him out of the way he could get more jobs done with Shep. Him and the mechanic went way back and he was sure he’d have jobs coming to him for a long time. He'd eventually be fat and filthy rich.

His daydream was halted when the sound of a gunshot met his ears causing him to rise to his feet; his chair flying behind him. Peering through the wide open door his eyes fell upon a dreadful scene; Showalter face first in the snow wailing with an officer overtop of him. Now he wasn’t worked up over the fact that it was Showalter’s ass who just got shot, he could care less for the guy. It was the fact that they’d been traced back here. It was only a matter of time before the police searched the cabin top to bottom and he wasn’t going to be here long enough for that.

While the officer was distracted with wrestling his ex-partner to the ground, Gaear grabbed his flannel coat, his cash, and a pair of snow shoes that were hanging on the wall. Flinging open the rear door to the cabin he pulled on the footwear and hurried through the heavy snow as best as he could. He wanted to get as far away from this cabin as possible. He’d have to stick to the trees and stay hidden among them. Going out onto the wide open frozen lake was practically begging to get caught. Taking the snowshoe trail he made his was down the path and away from danger.

He could still hear muffled talking the farther away he got from the cabin. Where was he going? The hell if he knew. Gaear just wanted to get as far away as possible from where he was now. With the money that he had, what would he do? He could rent a hotel...or just ‘borrow’ someone’s house for now. By borrow he meant killing them and forcefully taking the house but meh; ketchup, katsup. That was the phrase, right? He’d find a good place to start a new base of operations, get in touch with Shep and probably bang a bitch or two. After all, you can never have enough money.

By the time the officer had entered the cabin the large man was already long gone.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if there is any interest in having me continue. I'll probably do a couple more chapters since I'm passionate about this. We will see.


End file.
